


Congratulations, it's a virus

by Merwin_Me



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Businessman Peter, Humor, IT Technician Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Sassy Peter, Sassy Stiles Stilinski, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 03:12:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13604337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merwin_Me/pseuds/Merwin_Me
Summary: Summary: Stiles was just there to pick Scott up, when this rich dude mistakes him for one of the IT guys. This should be fun.





	Congratulations, it's a virus

When the tall building came into sight, Stiles stopped for a moment to stare at it, wondering for the millionth time just how Scott had managed to land himself the most boring job on the planet.  
  
Right. Stiles grimaced as he moved to enter the building, pulling a little uncomfortably on his work shirt. The moron decided to drop out of college when his then-girlfriend now-fiance got pregnant and they had slight money issues.  
  
And instead of approaching his mom or estranged dad or even Allison's not bad off father, Scott decided to drop out and get a minimum wage job.  
  
He was now, after a terrifying Allison and an equally pissed off Melissa had cornered him on several separate occasions, attempting to get back in college.  
  
It wasn't working out for the guy, but he was supposed to be at a meeting with the college board of directors in about an hour, so Stiles had offered to pick him up and drive him there, spare him the commute.  
  
And to also be able to chew him out on the way there, of course.  
  
After asking the bored looking receptionist for directions to the - shudder - customer service offices, Stiles stepped into one of the many fancy elevators over on the side.  
  
Customer service. What a hoot. It was just a fancy word for call center, even Scott could admit that much. All he did all day was accept calls, listen to complaints, do nothing about them while seeming to care, and making his own calls when no one was calling him.  
  
It was a pain for such an honest guy as Scott to not be able to assist every person ever in the entire wild world.  
  
Whereas Stiles couldn't give less of a shit unless the person was on his short list or he was paid enough. Enough, as in more than the pocket change Scott was making here.  
  
Working IT at Argent Arms might not seem like a big deal, but as systems manager, Stiles could safely say that without him, the company would fucking collapse.  
  
Chris, the boss up top and also Allison's father, seemed to agree with that as Stiles' pay reflected his work. He worked hard, and was rewarded for it.  
  
Scott could make more as a fucking janitor in a high school.  
  
When the elevator doors opened to show a truly staggering amount of cubicles, each stuffed with a miserable sack of human flesh devoid of a soul, Stiles' nose wrinkled.  
  
He'd have to start actively helping Scott regain his scholarship, this was just unacceptable. He preferred his best friend with an intact soul, thank you very much.  
  
A glance at the clock showed that it was one minute to five, before Stiles set off to find Scott. Luckily for him, and his poor nostrils, Scott's cubicle wasn't too deep into the endless abyss of pungent human despair laced with body odor and shit coffee.  
  
Knocking on one of the cardboard thin walls, Stiles looked at the back of his friend's head with disdain as he waited for the current call to finish.  
  
"It's five, Scott. Get up and get out of here. Before I catch flees." The last bit was carefully not muttered loudly enough for Scott to hear, lest he endure another half hour rant on kindness to random human beings that happened to be in Stiles' vicinity.  
  
"They haven't let us go yet, Stiles." Scott spoke up even as they both could hear the clicking sounds of an incoming call coming from Scott's headphones.  
  
Stiles could see the life slowly being sucked from his best friend's eyes.  
  
Before the call could connect, Stiles leaned over and pressed the power button on the ancient computer, wincing even as he shut off the computer in a definitely unsafe manner.  
  
Scott's eyes were saucer wide as he gaped at Stiles.  
  
"You don't get paid enough to sit here for even a second past 5, whereas I had to take an hour off for you today. So get the fuck up, Scott."  
  
Scott was smart enough not to protest, and silently gathered his stuff before moving to follow Stiles. He knew very well that he had made a stupid decision, and while his soon to be father-in-law was understanding that Stiles had needed to go home a bit sooner, he definitely didn't appreciate Scott's decisions being the cause of it.  
  
Stiles was one of his favorite and most necessary employees. If he took some time off, Chris preferred it to be for his own free time, not to help Scott.  
  
There were many reasons why Stiles was allowed to call him Chris but Scott wasn't allowed to call him anything other than Mr. Argent, and this was one of them.  
  
They were just getting off the elevator, when someone spoke up behind them, voice sounding annoyed.  
  
"Hey you! I've been calling IT for over an hour, where the hell have you been?"  
  
Scott and Stiles stopped walking, turning a little to look behind them curiously, only to see a man dressed in a clearly expensive suit glare right at Stiles.  
  
Stiles looked down at himself, confused. Until he realized that the shirt he was wearing was one of his work shirts. One of those with IT printed on his right shoulder.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir." Stiles started to politely explain, only to be cut off.  
  
"You will be if your don't get up to my office right this second."  
  
Without waiting for an answer, the man turned sharply on his heels, marching back into the elevator he'd come out of.  
  
"NOW!"  
  
Stiles blinked dumbly for a moment, before shrugging to himself. Why not poke an obviously rich asshole with a stick, it was bound to be more fun than carting his best friend around.  
  
"Here," Stiles tossed his keys to Scott, "get a scratch on Roscoe and I'll kill you."  
  
"But-" Poor Scott looked completely out of his depth.  
  
"Get going, good luck, and don't fuck it up!"  
  
With that, Stiles marched to the elevator that was being held open by the impatient rich and important ass.  
  
This was going to be fun. It appeared he would be getting paid for the lost hour after all.  
  
The ride up to one of the highest floors only took a little bit, but it passed in silence. The quiet and the fact that the other man was impatiently watching the closed doors instead of the IT guy standing a little behind him, gave Stiles time to really look him over.  
  
His first impression of the guy being rich seemed to be just about right, as the suit he was wearing was tailored to his form, fitting snug but not tightly to his broad shoulders, tapering inwards to hug his waist without giving the man the silhouette of a potato bag an off the rack suit would do.  
  
The glint of his watch was also a telling sign of money, as Stiles was pretty sure he was staring at a platinum Rolex. No simple toys, those.  
  
Useless waste of money, Stiles would always take a digital watch over an expensive show piece that was likely to get stolen within a month.  
  
Letting his eyes roam once more over the man's body, taking in the magnificently framed booty with more than a little interest, Stiles finally settled his eyes to look over the man's shoulder just in time for the doors to open.  
  
"Follow me."  
  
Even his voice sounded rich; deep and smooth. The bastard.  
  
Stiles was led to a large corner office that screamed of either shareholder or important position holder. He kind of hoped this man was the latter, because he had accidentally made the last entitled shareholder he met cry.  
  
True, the guy had been embezzling with what little control he had had over Argent Arms, but still.  
  
It got Stiles a raise too.  
  
Had he mentioned before that his boss was awesome?  
  
"My computer has been frozen for hours now."  
  
Blinking and pulling himself out of his mind, Stiles moved around the desk to take a look at the man's desktop. Before visibly shuddering in terrified disgust.  
  
"What?" The man looked like he would start to develop blood pressure problems any second now, though that might also be because of the truly humongous pile of work on his desk. "What is wrong?"  
  
"Besides the fact that this computer is old as fuck?" Stiles didn't notice the slow, bemused blink his swearing got him. "The programs you're running, the frozen ones, are out of date. This one," Stiles made a vague motion to the entire desktop, gaining him a deadpan stare, "is completely obsolete. The replacement should have been bought 3 months ago."  
  
Before Stiles could even start in on the lack of cooling in the computer that was near to overheating, or the 2 dead pixels that were already annoying him, or the lack of an anti virus program, he was interrupted.  
  
"I don't care about the details, can you fix it?"  
  
Stiles wouldn't have been able to keep himself from snorting even if he wanted to, stealing the chair from the important man so he could take a seat in front of the computer.  
  
He was kind enough to ignore the silent sputtering, though the glare he was being shot was rather impressive.  
  
"Sure, but it's gonna be expensive. Besides, like I said, your computer is old enough to belong in a museum. It's about a month away from overheating and destroying whatever files you have on here. And the program you need isn't free. I could have gotten you a discount, but you've been rude as fuck so far, so I don't think I will."  
  
"I'm sorry, I've been rude? It took you an hour to get here."  
  
Rich dude had apparently decided to take a seat on the other side of the desk, and was now leaning forwards, elbows resting on the expensive, possibly handmade, surface. His fingertips just brushed across his lightly stubbled chin, bright blue eyes narrowed at Stiles.  
  
Stiles' spine felt a bit weak at that look, but he managed to hide the fact that he was more than a little affected.  
  
What? Rich dude was hot.  
  
"I guess that would technically be true from your viewpoint. But no, seriously, did you download sketchy porn on this computer? Because you have a couple of viruses on here."  
  
The man blinked slowly at him, glare giving way to a silent look of questioning Stiles' sanity. Chris used to do the same the first couple of times he heard Stiles speak his heart.  
  
"My secretary also has access to this computer." Is what the guy finally ends up answering after a couple of minutes watching Stiles tap away at his computer.  
  
"Your secretary has bad taste in gay porn. Seriously, this shit is low quality."  
  
"Are you," it looked like the man was having to force the words out of his mouth, "seriously watching that right now?"  
  
Stiles grinned, before shaking his head a little, making the man loose the tense look on his face. Not wanting him to relax for too long though, Stiles continued while not taking his eyes off of his work.  
  
"I remember the titles from my teenage years, when I didn't yet know how to get my hands on the good shit."  
  
For a moment, the man looked like he was seriously considering how he was going to answer that, before just shaking his head and grabbing his cellphone from a pocket.  
  
Stiles could see the small grin the man was trying to hide though. Score, hot rich dude had a sense of humor hidden somewhere behind all the stress.  
  
"Babette? Yes, this is Peter Hale speaking. Don't bother coming in tomorrow, you're fired."  
  
And Stiles just got someone fired. He'd feel bad, if he wasn't currently trying to save a computer system from dying a - granted, long overdue - painful death. The viruses he'd found earlier were proving to be nasty little things, and he had to be careful with removing some, as they had wormed their way into some of the man's, Peter Hale's, important looking files.  
  
The man was lucky he had a systems manager working on his computer, the average IT guy would have had to count this computer as a loss and thrown it out all together.  
  
"Well, I got rid of the porn." Stiles said once he finally had a break as he waited for the computer to reboot with his new settings. "I'm going to have to make a backup of your files before tackling the programs though."  
  
Stiles started digging into his shoulderbag, fishing out an external hard drive that was probably empty and big enough to temporarily contain the files.  
  
"I'd recommend a new computer, but this company seems to like running on fossils and obsolete crap, so I'll clean this piece of history, and not the good history mind, this one definitely wasn't a good use of electronics the day it was released. Anyway, I'll fix it up, but if you don't replace it, you're going to end up losing everything once it either dies, explodes or melts."  
  
Peter looked alarmed, something Stiles didn't notice as he looked thoughtful, thinking back to the other few times he'd ran across this particular model.  
  
"Probably melt and catch fire."  
  
"Will it survive for another three weeks and two days?"  
  
Glancing up, Stiles raised a questioning eyebrow at the very specific time frame, even as he watched the progress bar from the corner of his eyes. Considering the computer with a pat on its side, Stiles winced at the heat and quickly removed his hand again.  
  
"Ouch. Side note, don't touch the computer. It's life span is now shorter. It'll last the four weeks. Probably. As long as you aim a fan at it and don't download anymore porn."  
  
"I didn't." Peter argued with a smirk, even as he walked to a cabinet where a small, portable fan was stashed.  
  
"Whatever you say, dear."  
  
Stiles didn't bother to hide his grin as the man chuckled at his response, accepting the fan when it was held out to him and plugging it in.  
  
"So," Stiles spoke up again after another couple of minutes of working silently, though there was now an unfairly hot man in an Armani suit leaning against the wall behind him, "where are you going in four weeks?"  
  
"Three weeks and two days." Apparently a very important distinction. "And out of this place. I'll be done auditing this... Company. " Stiles would bet that if he turned around now, he'd see a sneer on Peter's face. "I'll be out of here the second I'm done."  
  
"So you're not the one paying me?"  
  
Stiles paused in his work. This might make his petty revenge on the soul sucking company either impossible, or a lot more fun.  
  
"Your boss is paying you, it's no problem of mine."  
  
"But it is my problem." Stiles said cheerfully, spinning the leather chair around so he could look up at the man, doing his damned best to ignore that if he looked straight forward, he'd be staring at Peter's crotch.  
  
"I don't work here either."  
  
Peter's lazy look slipped a little, blinking down at Stiles with confused curiosity.  
  
"I was just here to pick up my dumbass friend, when some rich asshole," Stiles grinned cheekily at Peter, "demanded I fix his computer. How could I ignore that lovely expensive job you were offering me?"  
  
"Rich asshole? Really? Is that the best you can do?" Rather than being insulted, Peter simply sounded amused.  
  
"Calling it as I see it. Only a rich asshole wears Armani to a normal workday at the office."  
  
"I'm impressed you recognize the brand. What is it you're wearing, Target's clearance rack?"  
  
"Scuse you, this is Walmart's finest."  
  
Before Peter could respond, though the look of revulsion on his face was priceless and Stiles sort of wished he could get away with taking a picture, the computer let out a couple of sounds to indicate the updates were finished.  
  
"Well," Stiles stood with a shrug, absentmindedly turning the fan on a bit higher, "my work here is done. Where should I sent the invoice for my staggeringly expensive work?"  
  
As Stiles was putting his hard drive back into his bag, Peter had dug inside his jacket pocket and fished out a professional looking business card.  
  
"Send it to my email, I'll make sure they pay you... What is your name again?"  
  
For the first time Stiles had noticed, Peter looked stumped and annoyed with himself. Probably realizing it had been a bit rude that he'd never asked for Stiles' name.  
  
He was in luck, for Stiles could not give a damn. The man was both hot and had a sense of humor, he could forgive a faux pass.  
  
"Stiles Stilinski, systems manager at Argent Arms. My hourly rate is about ten times what the IT guys get paid here."  
  
Peter's eyebrows were nearly touching his hairline, the surprise on his face clear as day.  
  
"Argent Arms? I have done some work for Christopher before."  
  
"Yea, Chris is awesome, by far the best boss I've ever had."  
  
"I bet I could be better."  
  
Was that jealousy? That sounded an awful lot like jealousy.  
  
But when Stiles looked at Peter, he didn't see anything that might reveal what that odd tone had been about, and he shrugged it off.  
  
"I doubt that. I mean the eye candy would be great, but the personality could use some work. Chris has it both, and is terrifying on top of it. You really don't stand a chance."  
  
"My personality is just fine. But if you want terrifying, my employees can vouch for me on that."  
  
No, Stiles had definitely been right before, that was indeed jealousy he was hearing.  
  
"You keep telling yourself that, dear."  
  
Winking at Peter, even as he handed the man his own business card, Stiles started walking backwards out of the office.  
  
"Call me if you want to try and convince me some more."  
  
Peter looked at the business card he was holding, and a delighted grin lit up his face as he saw a private number scrawled across it.  
  
"How about dinner at the Ruby Star?"  
  
For a moment, the hallway outside his temporary office was silent, and Peter was almost beginning to think the interesting young man had already left.  
  
He needn't have worried though, for Stiles stuck his head back into the office, eyes wide in shocked surprise.  
  
"I'd need a suit." Is what comes squeaking out as an answer, and Peter grins.  
  
"I know just the tailor."

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [here](http://www.merwin-me.tumblr.com).


End file.
